Chapter Text
"It is only through interaction, through decision and choice, through confrontation, physical or mental, that the Force can grow within you."
Date: 9 BBY
Location: Coruscant - Imperial Palace
Emperor Palpatine rested upon his throne, reveling in the darkness. The only illumination came from the softly glowing buttons adorning the arms of his sleek seat. His scarred face was obscured beneath the deep shadows of his hood, though it failed to hide his satisfied smile. With eyes closed, he basked in the embrace of darkness, its form curling around him like a serpent, slowly tightening its grip.
Yet he knew better than to allow the darkness to take hold without consent. Spreading out his senses, Darth Sidious seized the slippery serpent of the Dark Side, gripping it tightly, bending and breaking it to his will. He had tamed the Dark Side decades ago, and it now obeyed his whims, drenching the throne room in the suffocating gloom that defined Palpatine's very existence.
Drawing slow, measured breaths, the Emperor allowed his mind to focus on that which strengthened his connection to the Dark Side. Extending his consciousness beyond his towering palace, he brushed against the minds of those who formed his Galactic Empire. He felt their anger, hatred, malice, and fear—particularly the fear, rampant and infectious, spreading quickly at the slightest whisper. In the streets, his stormtroopers enforced order through terror. None dared oppose his iron rule, having witnessed the brutal fate awaiting any who tried. True, small pockets of rebellion arose occasionally. Palpatine allowed them brief existence before ruthlessly crushing them.
His smile widened slightly, recalling the devastation he and his apprentice wrought upon the Twi'lek rebellion on Ryloth years earlier. The raw physical power of Darth Vader, combined with Palpatine's mastery of the Dark Side, had annihilated those repulsive aliens completely. His disgust for the Twi'lek fueled his anger further, deepening his control of the darkness.
Grasping the darkness firmly, Palpatine slipped insidiously into the minds of his advisers, probing for hints of disloyalty among his so-called trusted aides. He recalled a lesson from his master, once shared with a young Jedi Knight named Anakin Skywalker: all those who gain power fear to lose it. Palpatine acknowledged his own fear openly—it was the cornerstone of his power, both in the Force and throughout the Empire.
Indeed, it was through fear he had secured his apprentice. By preying upon Skywalker’s deepest insecurities and manipulating his weaknesses, Palpatine had claimed the most powerful Force-sensitive in history. Yet, the Force often delighted in disrupting his carefully laid plans. What was once swift and agile power had transformed into a fortress of darkness. Darth Vader now relied on brute strength, crushing all opposition beneath his rage-filled hatred.
The Emperor suddenly opened his eyes, surprise flickering in his sickly yellow irises—a rare occurrence. A ripple surged through the Force, waves cascading outward in all directions. He had felt such a disturbance only once before, nearly two decades earlier. Immediately, he reached through the Force, seeking its source.
At the disturbance’s core, he sensed a volatile mixture of both light and darkness, in constant battle. Frustratingly, the exact location eluded him, though Darth Vader lingered near it. Briefly, Palpatine considered if Vader himself was responsible, but quickly dismissed the idea; the presence held traces of the light, something Vader no longer possessed.
With a quiet sigh of dismay, Palpatine resumed his meditation. Whatever caused the disturbance, he thought, Vader would handle promptly. Unknown to him, however, another powerful Force-user also sensed this ripple—a diminutive, aged green Jedi Master whose mastery of the Force rivaled the Emperor's own.
Location: The Swamps of Dagobah
Ex-Grandmaster Yoda sat upon a large stone in the middle of an expansive lake that stretched out for miles. Mist from the bog swirled gently around him as he meditated, clearing his mind of all emotion. He embodied peace itself, his wrinkled green features slackening and his breathing slowing. Quietly, he reached out through the Force, perceiving the myriad life forms around him. Wild creatures such as lizards and snakes, along with larger animals, thrived within the swamps of Dagobah. Yet it was not these lesser beings that had drawn him here—it was the planet's natural and profound connection to the Force.
The Jedi had once called such a planet a Force Nexus, a place where the Force could be felt more strongly than elsewhere in the galaxy. The now-destroyed Jedi Temple had been one such place. His ears drooped slightly at the memory of the Jedi’s ancient home. The last time he'd seen it, flames consumed the building, smoke billowing from it like a great smokestack in Coruscant’s industrial sector.
Shaking his head to clear away those painful memories, the diminutive master drew deeply on the Force—what the Jedi called the Light Side. Instantly, peace washed over him. The chorus of guttural noises from swamp animals faded into silence as his mind became one with the Force.
Through meditation, Yoda had discovered a way to commune with those long dead—or rather, with one particular Jedi who had retained his consciousness after becoming one with the Force: Qui-Gon Jinn. With his physical body still seated on Dagobah, Yoda’s spirit entered a realm of endless, ethereal space. Here, the worlds of the living and the dead intersected, creating a space where they could meet without Qui-Gon needing to manifest in the living world. Yoda stood patiently, his gimmer stick planted before him. Thankfully, he did not have to wait long, as Qui-Gon shimmered into existence before him, the faint blue glow normally surrounding him absent in this realm.
Yoda bowed his head respectfully to the powerful presence before him. "A while it has been, Master Jinn," he said in his characteristic inverted speech.
The bearded Jedi smiled warmly. "That it has, my old friend. I had thought to visit you sooner, but I was preoccupied with my former apprentice."
A look of understanding crossed Yoda’s aged face as he spoke Qui-Gon's former apprentice's name. "Obi-Wan...well, he is?"
Qui-Gon nodded in confirmation. "Yes, and from what he's told me, young Skywalker is as reckless as his father was at his age. He nearly wrecked one of his uncle's speeders in a race the other day," he added with a knowing smile. Being part of the Force, Qui-Gon had witnessed the event himself and found it quite humorous, especially seeing Owen Lars berate Luke for such a reckless act. It reminded him fondly of Obi-Wan and Anakin.
Yoda let out a small chuckle, sharing similar sentiments. "Skywalkers—always reckless they are," he said, though a pained look flickered briefly in his eyes. Too reckless, perhaps, he thought silently.
Qui-Gon cleared his throat gently, drawing Yoda’s thoughtful gaze back to him. "I visited Obi-Wan not long ago," he began, folding his hands behind his back. "He is very close to achieving our goal, but I fear his grief may become the roadblock preventing him from attaining immortality through the Force."
"Guilt, you say?" Yoda asked, his lips pursed into a concerned frown. "A troubled mind Obi-Wan must not have, if to keep watch over Luke he is."
Qui-Gon opened his mouth to reply, but a strange gust of wind—both warm and cool—passed suddenly through the endless expanse. All color drained from Qui-Gon’s face as the wind moved through him, whispers of both light and dark carried upon its currents. Yoda, too, felt the odd sensation, surprise rather than dread evident on his face.
Yoda’s questioning eyes turned sharply toward Qui-Gon, silently demanding an explanation.
"There has been a disturbance in the Force," Qui-Gon explained, his expression grave. "Not of death, but of rebirth. One I knew would come eventually—but now, of all times? Even now, I fail to understand the Force's intentions. Even in death, I learn its mysteries only to find more questions than answers."
"Hmm…trust in the Force, we must," Yoda replied gravely.
Qui-Gon nodded thoughtfully, gazing into the endless distance. "This disturbance is not unlike the one at the start of the Clone War. Surely you recall what happened then?"
The shorter of the two Jedi gently rubbed the top of his gimmer stick with one of his three fingers, its smooth wood grain helping him focus. Just as some beings rubbed their chins or crossed their arms in contemplation, Yoda relied on his walking stick.
Slowly, realization illuminated his memories. Though it seemed ages since the Clone War had begun, one event stood out prominently in his mind—one he had kept secret from all others.
"It has begun. The cycle has started," Qui-Gon said quietly, turning away into the endless space between realms. "I will go to Obi-Wan immediately. I am certain he felt the disturbance as well."
As Qui-Gon dissipated into the white expanse, Yoda felt his own spirit being drawn back into his physical body. Before fully returning, a final thought crossed his mind.
Every time Obi-Wan’s name arose, another name shadowed it: Darth Vader. Fear colder than the snows of Hoth seeped into his veins, sending a shiver through his aged body. If Vader was anywhere near the disturbance, Yoda realized, it would be disastrous.
Unbeknownst to him, Darth Vader had indeed felt the disturbance more intensely than anyone else—for it had originated aboard his own vessel.
Location: Outer Rim- The Maverick, Imperator class Star Destroyer
Yet another body fell heavily onto the dull, metallic-gray floor of the bridge, the thud echoing sharply and drawing nervous glances from every technician seated in the comm pits. Lord Vader stood no more than thirty feet away from the cooling corpse of the Maverick's former admiral. His gaze shifted deliberately to the officer standing inches from the fallen man's body, whose face was now a mask of barely restrained terror under the piercing stare of Vader’s skull-like helmet.
"Commander Veritts," Vader’s deep voice boomed into the sudden silence, "you now command this vessel. Identify the source of the systems failure and dispatch a team immediately. I suspect rebel sabotage. Locate and detain them."
Admiral Veritts swallowed visibly, his sandy-blond bangs plastered to his sweat-slick forehead beneath his grey officer's hat.
"Y-yes, my Lord! Immediately," he replied, hastily snapping a rigid salute. But Vader had already begun striding away, the towering figure of flesh and cybernetics stepping dismissively over Veritts’ fallen predecessor.
As Vader moved away, he heard faintly behind him the admiral barking frantic orders, rallying the shaken crew back to their tasks.
In truth, Vader already knew the precise cause of the Maverick’s sudden loss of power. He had sensed the disturbance manifest physically through the Force as an intense electrical surge, washing over him moments before it struck the ship. The electrical pulse had temporarily shorted out his respirator, the automated systems of his suit swiftly rebooting it.
Navigating swiftly through the Maverick’s winding corridors, Vader passed rows of stormtroopers whose polished white armor gleamed under harsh lighting. The vessel buzzed with tension; all personnel were visibly anxious from the power outage. Already, whispers and rumors spread rapidly: murmurs of rebel sabotage aimed at Vader himself, and quiet speculations of an attempted coup resulting in the admiral’s execution.
'Let them think what they wish,' Vader mused darkly. 'A convenient lie serves my purposes.'
The truth was simpler and harsher—the former admiral had paid for a dangerously miscalculated hyperspace jump, which had stranded them perilously close to Tatooine, a system Vader preferred to avoid. Though the error had likely resulted from the Force disturbance rather than direct incompetence, Vader had made an example regardless.
He turned down another corridor, noting with mild irritation flickering overhead lights. One fixture sparked intermittently, scattering glowing embers across the gray deck plates beneath. Despite rapid repairs, numerous minor systems remained compromised by the sudden pulse.
Approaching the heavy blast doors to his private chambers, Vader found two stormtroopers at rigid attention.
"Lord Vader," they acknowledged in unison, and the doors hissed open swiftly before him.
Within his quarters, Vader ignored the cluttered workbench, heading directly toward the imposing hyperbaric medical chamber dominating the room’s center. The chamber, like the metallic jaws of some mechanical beast, began closing automatically as Vader settled into its seat. But just before the clamps sealed, his commlink chirped insistently.
Pressing a control, Vader halted the closure, retrieving the commlink and activating the holoprojector. A miniature, flickering image of Admiral Veritts appeared.
"Admiral," Vader growled menacingly, "you had best not be wasting my time."
If Veritts felt fear, he hid it commendably. "My Lord, we've located the source of the system failure," he reported crisply. "The disturbance originated from the cooling chamber near the ion engines. Scanners detected an unauthorized heat signature still present. The saboteur remains aboard. I was preparing to send a squad."
Vader gave a slight, approving nod. The admiral’s plan was logical, though inefficient; dispatching a team from the bridge would waste precious time.
"Your strategy is acceptable," Vader instructed sharply, "but instead send the two nearest guards—the ones posted by the turbolift serving engineering levels."
Veritts nodded rapidly, addressing someone off-screen. "Ensign, relay those orders immediately." Turning back, he gave a swift bow. "It shall be done, my Lord."
The transmission terminated, leaving Vader alone once more, his helmet betraying nothing of his thoughts.
Yet within, he was a simmering furnace of tightly controlled rage. He seized this anger, bending it masterfully to his will. In the darkness of his chamber, Vader stretched out through the Force again, probing the epicenter of the strange disturbance. He sensed turbulent energy—light and dark spiraling violently around a single individual. Whoever it was possessed immense Force potential, comparable even to Anakin Skywalker.
But this power was raw, untrained, erratic, causing bursts of chaotic energy that had disabled portions of the Maverick. The Force seemed strangely protective of this unknown presence. Vader felt this firsthand when he attempted a deeper mental probe. The Force surged defensively, violently resisting him. For the first time in over a decade, the Dark Side itself refused his command.
Vader’s anger swelled at the defiance of the Force—and at this unknown entity causing such disorder aboard his flagship, an unpredictable factor threatening his meticulously crafted order.
Yet beneath this anger lay curiosity. Perhaps, he mused darkly, this disturbance could yet serve the Empire, becoming a weapon to further secure his—and the Emperor’s—dominance over the galaxy.